


Twerk

by Jenetica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Embarrassment, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Twerking, and also actual crack, songfic kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will pays Hannibal a visit. Hannibal isn't impressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twerk

**Author's Note:**

> ... I'm sorry. This idea popped into my head and I couldn't help but write it. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. I couldn't make anyone proofread this for me.
> 
> Lyrics are from Lady's song "Twerk," which I recommend listening to while you read this.

Hannibal smudged his fingertip along a curve of graphite. His current sketch, a sagittal cross section of the human heart, was coming along very nicely. Though decades of medical (and culinary) contact with human organs gave him a very clear mental image of their planes and turns, successfully drawing such objects from memory always gave him a feeling of satisfaction. 

 

A sound from the waiting room made Hannibal stop to listen. Someone was in his home. He didn't have an appointment for over an hour; who was here?

 

He didn't need to wait long to get his answer. Will Graham opened his office door without knocking (rude, but Hannibal didn't so much mind rudeness from Will) and walked into the middle of the room, fidgeting.

 

He looked worse than normal, frazzled and distracted and... was that nervousness Hannibal could smell? 

 

Why was Will nervous? And why did he have a boombox?

 

Will shuffled, pulling at his sleeves to tuck his fingers into them. "I, uh," he said, voice breaking. "I... lemme just..."

 

He started unbuttoning his shirt. "Will," Hannibal said guardedly, "what are you doing?"

 

Will peered up at his over his glasses, blushing. He didn't respond, choosing instead to focus to removing his plaid button-down and the white t-shirt beneath it.

 

Will's chest was lean, Hannibal noted, and pale. A smattering of dark hair on his chest trailed down his sternum and over his belly, disappearing into his jeans.

 

But Will was taking those off, too, and Hannibal felt dredges of panic clutch at his chest. Why was Will disrobing in the middle of his office? Hannibal wasn't the sort of man to appreciate surprises, especially when it made him feel embarrassed. And Will was definitely making him embarrassed, flustered and off-guard.

 

Will had foregone his typical cotton boxers. Instead, shiny black satin looped over his hips, cupping his genitals and tucking them tight to his body. Hannibal couldn't see past Will's sharp hipbones, but he imagined the satin probably disappeared between the globes of his ass.

 

Will turned, still silent and awkward, and bent to fiddle with the boombox. This new angle afforded Hannibal a better view of Will's backside.

 

Will Graham was wearing a thong. In Hannibal's office. And there a synthesized rhythm pouring out of the speakers now, tinny and annoying. What was going on? Will shook himself out, loosening muscles. With dawning horror, Hannibal realized exactly what Will was about to do. 

 

"Will, please, no," Hannibal tried to say, but the music drowned him out. If Will heard anything, he ignored it. He fell to his arms and knees, ass spread and almost entirely exposed to Hannibal's mortified eyes. And then, Will's ass began to shake.

 

Hannibal didn't know what to do with himself. Struck motionless, he watched as the the cheeks of Will's behind bounced together, jiggling slightly. Will must have choreographed this routine, because somehow he managed to slide his way back to his feet, rear still shaking, to dance.

 

Hannibal listened closely to the music, which was trashy and obnoxious. A high-pitched voice kept using the word "twerk." Was that the name of this dance move, this uncouth slapping together of the buttocks? Was this called twerking?

 

Will moved over to one of the ladders in Hannibal's office and, in a feat of acrobatic skill, flipped himself upside-down so that his feet were lodged in one of the rungs of the ladder. Will moved his hips again, rolling his ass so it, once again, jiggled. 

 

"I'mma make it pop," the voice drawled from the boombox, "bend this thing over. I can't even lie, I can't do this when I sober. I'mma make it bounce, just like I told ya. You can't get a dance, nigga, I don't even know ya."

 

This... this was beyond Hannibal's pay grade. He couldn't help but be aroused; he was human, after all, and having an firm set of buttocks displayed for him so promiscuously was stimulating. But he was horrified, completely and totally, frozen in distress, and that tempered Hannibal's lust dramatically.

 

Will pushed off from the ladder with his feet and, cat-like, righted himself. He moved toward Hannibal's desk sensuously, swiveling his hips to keep "twerking" (dear God). He rounded the corner, dancing right in front of Hannibal.

 

The psychiatrist looked up at the determined face of his patient. This close, Hannibal could see several other bits of Will's anatomy bouncing, which did nothing to help his arousal. He barely felt it, though, too caught up in his mortification to notice. 

 

  
_Please, no,_ Hannibal begged with his eyes. Will's lips hardened in refusal and he twisted about face, dropping to the ground to twerk again.

 

Hannibal watched, fascinated despite himself. He could see the fine hairs on Will's thighs and the thin sheen of sweat coating the small of Will's back. He focused on those and the faint smell of salt, musk, and cologne that wafted toward Hannibal in waves instead of the bobbing movement of Will's ass. Unbidden, his eyes sought out the thin strip of fabric between Will's cheeks, watching as it peeked out on every bounce.

 

"He like it when I make this ass vibrate (twerk), bend it over, make this make this thang shake (twerk). He like it when I make this ass vibrate (twerk), bend it over, make this make this thang shake. He like it when I twerk it (twerk it), so I'mma twerk it (twerk it), I'mma twerk it (twerk it), yeah, I'm gon' twerk it."

 

Finally, mercifully, the song ended. Hannibal feared another song might be up next, but Will stood and moved back to his clothes, pulling them on roughly. Hannibal breathed a sigh of relief, loud in the suddenly silent room.

 

"Um," Will said, his voice still shy despite it all,  "right." He nodded to himself before looking Hannibal dead in the eye, determined. "See you Wednesday, Dr. Lecter."

 

With that, Will picked up his boombox and left, closing the door with a definitive snap.

 

Hannibal sat, still flabbergasted, still mortified, and hopelessly aroused.

 

"... What?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> ... Yeah. If you see any errors, leave a note in the comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
